Wr1tt3n0ne

Bunches and bunches
2017-05-24 21:55:59 (UTC)

Rehab Chafes!

Kidding, I mean my ankle is still sore. And my knee is still scabbed up a bit.

My body's woes seem to mirror my heart's woes. No closure and it is thick, slow going. That guy did a lot of damage. It was pretty easy the way I invited him into my life despite my reservations. That is on me. I am an adult, I should not have been so hung up as to allow myself to be put in situations I was not comfortable. And I was not comfortable hardly at all with him. Even when times seemed good, I was worried, always worried. Still I threw myself down that rabbit hole without, sadly, much thought. I let all the possibilities blind me to actual reality. I refused to face facts when I saw his old patterns of leaving me cropping up. Hope makes a fool out of you, to be sure. And I had hopes higher than the sky, clouds, and atmosphere. I feel stupid, not for being hopeful, nor even totally naïve, although maybe that last one applies here a bit, no I feel stupid for compromising myself at my advanced age.

I am certainly old enough and worldly enough not to, but I did it anyways. I saw the myriad of ways this was going to sooner or later come to an unsatisfactory end and the almost no way this could work out how I wished it to and you know, went for it anyways. Well nothing like humble pie after your epic face plant! I wish I could say I was not aware, but that was not true at all. I had anxiety all the time which is kind of a dead giveaway that what I am doing is making me crazy and I should probably stop, if only for my mental health. So the natural question is why.

So you know the saying "man of my dreams?" Well, he was a man IN my dreams for the last decade. I would see him, talk to him, hold his hand and breathlessly kiss him. And sometimes, it was not exactly so g-rated. I would awake with his kiss still burning on my lips, his voice ringing in my ears and so my lust, love, longing, whatever it was had a steady diet of him over the intervening years. My dreams were the original full fat version of my youth with him. Mmmm, with real sugar. So when the real McCoy said he loved me, well, it was fate, destiny, and a long denied dream come true. So yes, I was a fool. A fool for who I thought he was, who I wanted him to be, and the embodiment of my racy romance dreams in the flesh saying, well, who cared right? I mean he could have read me the phonebook, but when he said he loved me. I couldn't breathe, function, think, you know, nothing really. I dared not even exhale too deeply and wake.

So yes, um, what an stupefying, massive mistake I made zooming off without thought to my safety, my heart, or even the possible blowback. I have a amazing support network full of people who LOVE me. All they want is my success, genuinely. And they saw me happy, voiced their concerns for me and then got behind me. Solid, steadfast, true friends that they all are. I have always told my friends the most dangerous place to stand with me is in between me and what I want and those who stay in my life know that all too well. I know I am willful and I can be all but blind in my relationships especially. I must be free to be me, to soar at the heights and plunge to my figurative death. I used to always hate the term artistic temperament, but boy do I have one! I can be furious and then loving, confused about so much and still knowing what I know in the marrow of my bones, and those who love me best, set me free and know I always circle back for them. I am faithful in the end, always which is why it is so vital that surround myself with those I can and should be loyal to, otherwise it borders on obsessive.

I saw that my old first love was not the kind of man I should return to, because he suffers from unreliability and that makes two people, which you know, kills any relationship. I am the bird or butterfly flitting about, the rest of those who love me have to be the more unwavering for my flightiness. There is literally no way it works out when I am with my same personality. Gosh, I hate people too similar to myself. Yeah, yeah, I know how bad that is but I feel one of me is more than enough. That guy was one who used to know my thoughts before I gave them voice. While cute when you are young, it is not workable in midlife. In midlife, it is one dimensional, self-indulgent, and stupid really to try and have meaningful relationship when all you do is sit about gushing and reminiscing. If the point of life is growth and change, this is its antithesis.

And of course this assumes he is encased in amber from the earlier time when I knew him. Yes, well, I did say I was naïve and I meant it. Eyes roll at myself, deservedly. Nope he had trauma, recovery, dependency, poor and good life choices. All of this changed him into someone I did not know. A veritable stranger in a "you know me deeply" skin suit. So in answer to the age old question of what do you do when you get what you want, the real answer is look the gift horse in the mouth.

So now I need a little rehab to get back to being myself, out loud and proud.




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